GIFT  OF 


mnmts  to 
Uttf rarg  ♦  ♦ 


SONNETS  TO 
LITERARY  PERSONAGES 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 


PLATEN 


\Vi 


REGINALD  B.  COOKE,  Ph.D. 


ANDRUS  &  CHURCH 
ITHACA,  NEW  YORK 

1922 


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Entered  in  the  Library  of  Congress 

and  copyright,  1922,  by 

R.  B.  Cooke 


This  edition  Hmited  to  40  copies. 
Copy  No 


^axt^ttxh 


This  volume  comprises  the  fifth  series  of  my 
translations  from  Platen,  containing  twelve 
sonnets  of  somewhat  circumscribed  interest, 
addressed  to,  or  otherwise  concerned  with,  vari- 
ous persons  of  literary  consequence,  for  the  most 
part  acquaintances  of  Platen. 

Of  these  sonnets  only  the  first  of  those 
addressed  to  Schelling  has  been  previously 
translatecj  into  English,  by  an  anonymous  writer, 
and  may  be  found  in  Longfellow's  Poets  and 
Poetry  of  Europe  and  also  in  Warner's  Library^  of 
the  World's  Best  Literature. 

The  mottoes  given  here  date  from  1 82 1 ,  and 
complete  the  five  which  Platen  prefixed  at  one 
time  or  another  to  editions  of  his  sonnets. 

Only  twenty-three  sonnets  now  remain  to 
be   translated,  which    it  is    proposed    to    group 


469? 


O  £  ^» 


under  the  title  To  Various  Friends.  These  will 
probably  be  found  to  be  of  greater  general 
interest  than  the  present  series,  containing  as 
they  do  some  of  Platen*s  most  impassioned  work. 

May  I  be  permitted  to  note  that  since  I  began 
these  translations  eight  years  ago,  I  find  that  their 
style  has  become  increasingly  faithful  to  the 
original,  yet  at  the  same  time  increasingly  want- 
ing in  flexibility  and  grace.  The  enjambement  of 
the  octave  in  the  sonnet  to  Shakespeare,  which 
has  been  recast  from  the  first  translation  from 
Platen  which  I  ever  made,  is  a  survival  of  my 
earlier  method,  and  comes  now  with  a  sense  of 
positive  relief.  Accordingly,  with  all  my  admira- 
tion for  Platen's  craftsmanship,  probably  unex- 
celled in  modern  literature,  I  cannot  but  feel  that 
there  is  much  to  be  said  for  the  Miltonic  idea  of 
the  sonnet  as  a  fluent  and  more  or  less  amor- 
phous whole. 

Cornell  University.  R.  B.  C. 


SONNETS  TO 
LITERARY  PERSONAGES 


MOTTOES 

I 

The  world  grows  more  and  more  profane; 
No  champions  now  the  Faith  sustain. 
What  wrong  hath  the  Eternal  wrought 
That  we  but  seldom  give  him  thought  ? 

II 

Know  that  so  long  as  you  let  reign 

An  epidemic  of  reflexion, 
In  quarantine  you  must  remain 

At  Poetry's  portal  for  inspection. 

Ill 

Oh  that  I  had  but  the  power 

With  vigor  to  route  and  avert 
From  every  poetical  flower 

The  political  bugs  and  their  dirt ! 


TO  SCHELLING— I 

DOTH  not  he  ever  king  in  Truth's  domain 
Reign  too  o'er  Beauty's  realm  by  kingly  right? 
Thou  dost  behold  them  perfectly  unite 
And  closely  fuse  in  one  harmonious  strain. 
This  little  present  thou  wilt  not  disdain; 
These  oriental  throngs  with  true  delight 
Thou  wilt  survey,  so  picturesque,  so  bright, 
And  grow  accustomed  to  their  strange  refrain. 
On  blooms  of  a  far  land  admittedly 
I  poise  but  lightly  like  the  butterfly. 
Joying  perchance  in  some  mere  vanity. 
But  from  the  brims  of  flowers  'neath  every  sky 
Thou  dipp'st  the  wing  of  the  inviolate  bee 
Into  the  mysteries  of  How  and  Why. 


(1821) 


TO  SCHELLING— 2 

WE  hung  upon  thy  words  with  zeal  untold. 
Each  in  his  seat  how  eager  to  detect 
Th*  amazing  flashes  of  thy  intellect. 
Piercing  like  lightning  from  the  clouds  unrolled. 
Our  fragmentary  world  thou  dost  behold 
Entire,  as  from  some  mountain  peak  erect; 
What  our  impoverished  faculties  dissect 
Opens  to  thee  as  flowering  plants  unfold. 
Though  fools  there  be  who  wrathfully  display 
Their  logical  invectives,  so  to  blind 
Our  senses  to  the  worthless  eggs  they  lay. 
Yet  shall  these  censors,  thinking  fault  to  find, 
Stir  not  the  world  of  learning,  nor  shall  they 
At  any  time  inspire  a  poet's  mind. 


(1821) 


TO  SCHELLING— 3     ' 

AS  full  of  weariness  sank  to  the  grave 
A  century,  and  left  at  our  command 
Much  that  was  great,  thou  cam*st,  though  scarce  o*er- 

spanned 
Thy  youth,  the  course  of  the  new  age  to  pave. 
Art  saw  thy  coming,  grasped  the  pilgrim  s  stave, 
And  roamed  at  liberty  through  every  land; 
Gladly  to  her  the  chill  North  and  the  bland. 
Luxuriant  South  their  golden  treasures  gave. 
The  air  is  filled  with  yelpings  of  the  crowd. 
The  stupid  and  the  vile  defile  her  fame. 
And  owls  through  each  foul  breech  do  screech  aloud; 
Yet  all  serene  her  diamond  flowers  flame, 
Whose  fragrance  permeates,  like  an  incense  cloud. 
The  realms  which  bow  to  Christ's  eternal  name. 


(1821 


TO  GOETHE 

THOU,  mighty  one,  whom  I  beheld  oft  blind 
To  my  true  nature  of  a  bygone  year, 
Thee  do  I  number  now  'mongst  those  most  dear 
To  me,  to  whom  my  favor  is  inclined. 
To  one  whom  truth  imbues  all  undesigned 
The  outward  form  harmonious  must  appear, 
And  what  to  the  unskilled  may  cause  but  fear 
Must  nobly  manifest  the  master  mind. 
For  in  whose  breast  plenty  and  power  upspring 
To  him  shall  lordship  proud  o*er  words  belong. 
In  toilsome  rhymes  to  soar  with  nimble  wing. 
He  fashions  the  swift  arrow  of  his  song 
Deftly,  and  whatsoever  he  may  sing 
Is  wrought  entire  and  knows  no  binding  thong. 


(1821) 


HAFIZ 

THAT  Hafiz  is  audacious  to  deny 
Were  vain;  such  spirits  chafe  at  leading  strings; 
For  he  is  Hke  the  eagle  whose  broad  wings 
Strike  the  bright  stars  which  circle  in  the  sky. 
You  may  gaze  after  him,  or  mount  on  high, 
With  him,  his  cloudless  summits,  where  there  springs 
Full  many  a  bloom,  and  none  the  censure  brings 
That  all  save  one  he  passes  heedless  by. 
Whether  you  spend  your  powers  for  good  or  ill, 
'Tis  but  the  form  inspires  with  ecstasy 
The  former,  his  own  mission  to  fulfill. 
No  fool  infuses  with  disharmony, 
Nor  with  his  dull  stupidity  can  chill. 
The  heart  which  all  through  life  feels  itself  free. 


(1821) 


HAFIZ 

THAT  Hafiz  is  audacious  to  deny 
Were  vain;  such  spirits  chafe  at  leading  strings; 
For  he  is  Hke  the  eagle  whose  broad  wings 
Strike  the  bright  stars  which  circle  in  the  sky. 
You  may  gaze  after  him,  or  mount  on  high. 
With  him,  his  cloudless  summits,  where  there  springs 
Full  many  a  bloom,  and  none  the  censure  brings 
That  all  save  one  he  passes  heedless  by. 
Whether  you  spend  your  powers  for  good  or  ill, 
*Tis  but  the  form  inspires  with  ecstasy 
The  former,  his  own  mission  to  fulfill. 
No  fool  infuses  with  disharmony. 
Nor  with  his  dull  stupidity  can  chill. 
The  heart  which  all  through  life  feels  itself  free. 


(1821) 


TO  J.  J.  WAGNER 


<  4    A  RT  is  now  dead,  its  message  once  expressed.' 

/i.     I  see  thee,  crying  this,  turn  up  thy  nose, 
As  were  we  all  stuck  in  a  swamp,  nor  chose 
To  sail  abroad  at  Poesy's  behest. 
Th*  Eternal  is  sold  out,  so  hast  thou  guessed. 
As  if  we  spoke  merely  of  shop-worn  hose. 
That  is  the  strongest  trump  thou  canst  disclose, 
Of  all  thy  tricks  that  is  the  trickiest. 
Never  presume,  ensnared  by  whims  so  vain, 
To  comprehend  the  Muse*s  mysteries; 
Scarce  shall  thy  wit  this  end  at  all  attain. 
Ne'er  ask  of  us,  whom  falsehoods  must  displease. 
Though  thee  we  love,  that  we  should  not  disdain 
For  love  to  yield  ourselves  to  such  as  these. 


(1821) 


TO  SHAKESPEARE  IN  HIS  SONNETS 

/^H  who  than  thou   can  pierce  the  heart  s  depths 

^^  deeper  ? 

The  best  the  lottery  of  life  can  lend 

Is  ever  thine;  and  when  thy  songs  ascend 

Then  are  we  silent  as  a  speechless  weeper. 

No  idle  maiden-dreams  disturb  a  sleeper 

Whom  we  behold  so  fervently  contend 

For  friendship,  saved  from  intrigues  by  thy  friend, 

His  beauty  both  thy  glory  and  the  keeper 

Of  all  thy  grief.     Even  the  gnawing  care, 

Even  the  sorrows  which  he  doth  impose  — 

Thou  deemest  all  divine;  and  howsoever 

He  pain  thee  by  the  heartlessness  he  shows, 

Thou  ne'er  forsak'st  him,  seeing  w^ith  despair 

The  worm  of  lust  upon  the  lovely  rose. 


(1822) 


TO  JEAN  PAUL 

AS  to  thine  image  oft  my  thoughts  would  yield, 
Of  duty  unfulfilled  must  I  repent, 
That  I  have  made  thee  no  acknowledgement 
Of  love  and  gentleness  to  me  revealed. 
Now  hath  Death  frozen  with  his  Gorgon-shield 
The  gaze  once  rapturously  heavenward  bent. 
And  these  my  wreaths  of  friendship  must  be  sent 
After  thee  to  an  unfamiliar  field. 
On  thy  good  will  my  youthful  heart  depended 
For  cheer,  for  heat  renewed,  the  smoldering  brand 
0*er  which  as  yet  but  few  faint  sparks  ascended. 
And  now  thy  spirit  sojourns  in  command 
Of  youth  and  health  and  joy,  whither  had  tended 
Ever  its  flight,  in  the  rich  Wonderland. 


(1825) 


TO  RtJCKERT 

THY  book  yet  scarce  a  third  devoured,  where  Hes 
Proof  of  Hariri's  art  and  proof  of  thine, 
Aheady  what  entrancing  joys  are  mine, 
As  I  survey  each  page  with  frank  surprise. 
When  genius,  begging  through  the  world,  reHes 
On  its  own  wits  alone,  *tis  seen  to  shine 
More  genuine,  more  rare,  and  more  divine 
Than  ever,  though  a  rogue's  blouse  its  disguise. 
But  now  a  friend  and  I,  if  so  you  please 
Rather  than  give  two  little  books  away. 
Must  toss  up  for  thy  Metamorphoses 
Of  Ebu  Seid,     Let  not  my  hair  grow  gray, 
Nor  part  me  from  his  virtuosities; 
So  send  another  little  copy,  pray. 


(1826) 


TO  TIECK 

PR  palates  without  taste  thou  hast  selected 
Fruit  from  the  garden  of  th*  Hesperides. 
Thy  Calderon  is  ridiculed  by  these 
Untutored  Germans,  as  might  be  expected. 
The  standards  of  Bad  Taste,  still  undetected 
And  unrebuked,  triumph  in  every  breeze; 
Scarce  heeds  the  victor  yet  thy  mockeries. 
Merely  by  words,  though  harsh,  to  stand  corrected. 
Let  the  barbarians  then  pipe  away, 
Hissing  our  poets,  who  themselves  resign 
To  popular  indifference  day  by  day. 
But  never  let  them  on  the  light  divine 
Of  foreign  masters  hands  of  violence  lay; 
And  cast  no  longer  pearls  before  these  swine  ! 


(1826) 


TO  WINCKELMANN 

If  I  escaped  canting  hypocrasy, 

"*•     For  this  my  gratitude  be  ever  thine; 

Thy  spirit  found  what  time  cannot  design. 

Yet  found  it  not  in  books  of  piety. 

For  thee  in  heathen  works,  which  lavishly 

Scatter  its  rays,  the  heavenly  light  would  shine; 

For  what  is  ever  perfect  is  divine. 

And  Christ  himself  bade  that  we  perfect  be. 

Gladly  indeed  would  certain  sable  frocks 

Perplex  the  spirit,  fain  to  be  at  ease, 

Or  number  us  among  the  hircine  flocks. 

Yet  cease  the  heathen  to  bewail,  for  these 

Who  can  breathe  forth  their  spirit  into  blocks 

Of  marble  are  above  our  littanies. 


(1826) 


TO  SOPHOCLES 

GOOD  Sophocles,  keen  to  discriminate 
The  point  where  human  and  divine  dispart, 
What  thou  embellishedst  with  earthly  art 
Celestial  voices  would  reiterate. 
Knowing  its  surface,  thou  couldst  penetrate 
This  world's  recesses,  and  th'  unspoken  smart 
And  silent  longing  of  the  human  heart 
Mad'st  with  thy  thousand  tongues  articulate. 
Naught  hast  thou  cast  in  a  prosaic  mould. 
But  scatterest  with  rare  munificence 
Dense  and  resplendent  sparks  of  flaming  gold. 
A  holy  embassy  thou  didst  dispense, 
Deep  drinking  Poesy's  draughts,  now  to  unfold 
The  sheen  of  thy  consummate  excellence. 


(1826) 


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